


Eternity

by DepravedAndUnstable



Series: My Fairy Tale AU's [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Bondage, Captivity, Dark, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, It happened so fast, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual, Rapunzel AU, but seriously what is wrong with me?, how did this get so dark?, it was never going to be fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:43:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4622346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepravedAndUnstable/pseuds/DepravedAndUnstable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been decades since Voldemort won and, despite the Orders numerous attempts, Harry Potter still belonged to him and always would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> Got a bit buzzed and finally wrote my first sex scene.
> 
> Read the tags, please, because this is much darker than anything I've ever written before.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is, as always, appreciated.

In the darkest part of the Forbidden Forest, there stood a single tower, ancient and lonely. It sat silently, rising up well beyond the tops of the tallest trees, and leaning so hazardously to the side that the only possible way that it could still be standing was with the assistance of magic. There was no door, no way in or out other than a window near the very top that was impossible to reach without the aid of wings, and the bars placed over it ensured that only the smallest of birds could squeeze inside. Not that they would. Their instincts screamed at them to stay far away from this place, and all the creatures within the forest gave the tower a wide berth.

This place was more than forbidden, it was a death sentence to all that laid eyes on it. For inside laid the dark lords most cherished possession.

His last Horcrux.

Out of the shadows and tangled branches, a lone cloaked figure emerged. They quickly and cautiously approached the tower, a wand clutched tightly in their trembling fingers.

Pulling down their hood, a mess of mousy gray curls tumbled out, and an aged face with intelligent brown eyes scanned the forest, searching for any movement but finding none. Hesitantly, the witch turned her back on the eerie forest and began feverishly muttering under her breath, occasionally tapping the end of her wand on the towers stone base.

She stayed at it for nearly an hour. Preforming every charm, spell, and counter-curse she thought had any chance of working, and then trying them a second time and then a third. It didn't matter. Nothing happened. The stone tower remained as impenetrable as before.

Cursing under her breath, the witch held back the tears threatening to escape.

She was so close.

She couldn't just leave him here, not when there was only a single wall between them.

Putting her wand away, she placed a withered hand on the cool stone of the tower.

It had been so long and she had lost so much...

“Giving up already?”

Twirling around, eyes wide, the witch finally noticed the handsome young man leaning casually against the trunk of a tree only a few yards away from her. He had chiseled features and cold onyx eyes that were focused on her. She felt rather like a rabbit finding itself in the sights of a fox, frozen in place and hoping that the predator wasn’t feeling particularly hungry today.

He smirked when she froze, the expression as beautiful as it was chilling.

“Really, Hermione, I’m disappointed. You didn’t even try an Eleuther Charm.”

Hermione’s right hand twitched, but the young man pretended not to notice. “Not that it would have worked, but I’m still disappointed that you didn’t think of it.”

“ _Voldemort_.” Her voice was dripping with contempt, but it failed to completely hide her fear.

The object of her negative feelings acted as though they didn’t exist. Instead continuing on as though this was a pleasant conversation between two civil parties. “You are, after all, the brains behind the Order of the Phoenix, and the only intellectual rival I’ve had for decades.”

He stood up straight, abandoning the support of the tree, and wiped his robes of any unwanted dirt that may have attached itself to his person.

He was the picture of defenselessness.

“So you see, to have this be the end of our battle of wits, to have our grand game of chess come to a close because of such an idiotic move, well I find it a bit of a letdown.”

With speed that comes only with years of repetition, Hermione snatched her wand out of her pocket and pointed it directly at the dark lords nonexistent heart. “Game? This has all been a game to you? People are dead. Others are left behind to grieve. Widows. Orphans. All because of your _game_.”

Not in the least bothered by her threat or accusations, Voldemort’s smirk only grew. “Not mine. Ours. You are after all the one that sent them all to their deaths. You’re just as much to blame as I am. The only difference is that, unlike you, _I don’t care_.”

“You bastard.” Tears burned as they slid down her cheeks. “You absolute bastard. You can go to hell!”

Then without a single pause, without a moments hesitation, she shouted out the killing curse.

“Avada Kedavra!”

And-

Nothing.

Not so much as a green spark flew from the tip of her wand.

Voldemort chuckled coldly.

“Do you understand now? Why none of your charms or spells worked? Why you can never take him from me?”

Hermione didn’t move. Her wand, still pointing at the man before her, was useless.

“I’ve warded this entire forest so that no magic can be used within.” Calmly, leisurely, he pulled out his own wand, the elder wand. “No magic, of course, but my own.”

He pointed the legendary weapon at her.

“I’m almost tempted to let you go. To let you live out the few years you have left withered and old and with nothing but the memories of your many failures.” He tilted his head, as if contemplating mercy, and Hermione barely dared to breathe. “Almost.”

A blinding green light shot from the wand and hit Hermione square in her chest. She toppled, lifeless, to the ground.

The dark lord gazed down at her body, a feeling similar to happiness warming through him. The leader of the Order of the Phoenix was dead, and without her to guide them it would be no more than a month before the entire group was rounded up and executed. The last real threat to his power was gone.

The resistance was crippled and the dark lord’s eternal rein ensured. When he returned to London he’d have to make an announcement. There would be countless celebrations and parties thrown in his honor.

But first…

His eyes wandered up to the towers window.

 

***

 

The tower held a single staircase that lead to a single room. The room was far larger than the tower should have allowed and was much more richly decorated than the drab exterior suggested. It had everything a pampered prisoner could possibly want. A well-stocked kitchen (absent of any sharp objects), an extensive library (stocked with carefully selected books), and a large bed (sinfully large, really).

“It isn’t Sunday.” An emotionless voice noted as Voldemort closed and locked the door behind him.

“No it isn’t,” he agreed. Searching the room, he found his Horcrux lounging in a plush armchair, staring blankly at the ceiling. This was seemingly all Harry did anymore, at least when Voldemort wasn’t here. “You had a visitor.”

Years ago, decades, this might have mustered some kind of response from Harry, but years of holding so much of Voldemort’s attention had changed him drastically. He’d always been a smart boy, after all, and he'd learned quickly that what the dark lord really craved was his reactions, his tears, his screams. Now he just hummed, youthful face remaining blank and eyes remaining trained on the ceiling. He didn’t move a muscle and didn’t outwardly show any interest. Testing their mental link, Voldemort noted that he was curious, but not enough to stir himself into action.

“Wouldn’t you like to know who it was?” Voldemort perched himself on the arm of the chair.

“Not really.” Harry hadn’t moved, or so much as glanced at Voldemort since he’d entered the room. From anyone else this kind of behavior would have enraged the dark lord, but from his Horcrux he found it amusing. It was the boy who lived’s last form of rebellion. It was useless, but it proved he still had a little fight left in him.

“Why not?” He wanted to ignite that last spark. He wanted to fan it into a wildfire, so that it would eat away at everything that could possibly keep it alive. So that it would burn brightly and then fade into nothing. Leaving his darling captive completely broken and entirely his.

“Because it doesn’t matter who it was. They’re dead now. Knowing who they were will change nothing.” Such a smart boy. Yet, after all these years he was still undeniably naive. He thought he couldn’t be hurt anymore. How adorable.

“Usually you would be right,” He gently started running his hands threw the Harrys unruly hair. Stoking it down only for it to stick straight back up, defying the law of gravity and amusing him to no end. Harry remained motionless, allowing the petting. “But not this time, I’m afraid. This time it changes a great deal.”

“Hmm.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Voldemort removed himself from his perch, and kneeled before Harry, pushing his legs apart with a hand on either thigh. The dark lord positioned himself between the younger man’s legs and cherished the way the muscles tensed beneath his hands.

To most it would appear that Voldemort had entered a position subservient to his Horcrux, but he knew better. He knew how vulnerable it made Harry feel when he was between his legs, to be this exposed, open to his advances. Everything they’d done together and Harry still somehow managed to remind him of a blushing virgin.

His prisoner didn’t show his unease though, he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling and his face relaxed. That was another advantage of this position, he had a much better view of Harry’s features, and it would be even better when their eyes locked. It would be so much easier to read his broken expression.

He slid his hand up so that it rested lightly on Harry’s crotch, and began to gently rub the sensitive area. Up and down.

Finally, Harry looked down and met his gaze. “You want to do it now? Are you sure? You’ve only had three days to recover from the last time, _old man_. Can you even get it up?”

There it was. That last spark of defiance.

Voldemort smirked. Harry could throw his petty insults. He had something much better.

Continuing the up and down motion until the last moment, his other hand reached to undo the trousers buttons and pulled out his Horcuxes cock, semi hard at this point. Unlike the rest of him, this part of Harry was completely under his control. For a few minutes the dark lord lavished it with caresses and gave it his undivided attention. Both his hands squeezed and stroked while his mouth engulfed the head, his tongue repeatedly switching between light, teasing licks and long, hard swipes.

He had Harry panting soon enough, and when the younger man was fully hard, leaking pre-cum, that’s when he said it. Just one word.

“Hermione.”

Voldemort lifted his lips off of Harrys cock and clarified, his breath still hitting the sensitive appendage before him with every syllable. “It was Hermione.”

His eyes eagerly took in the damage, the way the boy’s mouth dropped open in horror, the way his eyes widened in disbelief, the way his cheeks lost all color. The tears beginning to well in his eyes. All while his body was readying to climax. It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a century, surely.

He didn’t have time to appreciate that beauty for long, though, because as soon as he had time to process this information, Harry kicked him, hard, in the stomach, and was on him, fists flying, screaming incoherently.

With a single spell, he had the boy flung away him, across the room, and onto the bed. With another he had both of their clothes removed.

Approaching the bed, he took in the perfection that was his Horcrux. The tears were streaming freely down his cheeks now, and despite having wilted a little his cock was still hard. Nothing gave him more joy than seeing Harry like this.

The younger man tried to roll off the bed, but with a final spell Voldemort bound him, face down, legs spread, hips up. He was helpless to stop what was going to happen. Nothing new, but still, such a tantalizing view.

He draped himself over his struggling captive, loving the feeling of the warm body squirming beneath him, and whispered into Harry’s ear. “That’s right. Hermione is dead. The last of your friends is gone along with your last hope of escape.”

Voldemort didn’t bother with preparation, he just slid in. After so long Harry was always ready for it. “You have nothing left in this world.”

He started to thrust, fast and harsh, not at all worried about Harry’s pleasure, only his own. “You only have me.”

There was no better feeling, than to be surrounded by this tight heat. To be sucked in by it, even as Harry himself struggled to get away. “And you’re going to stay here with me for eternity.”

The tightness gripping him shuddered as his Horcrux spent himself all over the sheets beneath them. Harry was audibly sobbing now, his fingers gripping at the fabric and his face buried in a pillow.

Grinning, Voldemort continued to thrust, with more force than before.

They weren’t done yet.

They’d never be done. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yea? Nay?


End file.
